The Declaration
by Imraphel
Summary: Hermione has had enough. And she is not the only one. EWE. Rated K for mild language.


Hermione Granger didn't notice the rain. The young witch hadn't put any spell up to prevent herself getting wet, nor was she walking in shelter. In fact she was walking right down the middle of Diagon Alley through what looked like a solid sheet of water. But she didn't notice the rain. Because she was incandescent with a cold, cold fury. And because she had a specific job to do.

She strode into the Ministry of Magic Atrium, not bothering to dry herself and leaving a soggy trail on the brilliantly polished floor. The guard took one look at her face and got out of her way, her infamous reputation for once working in her favour. She stepped into the lift that would take her to the top floor. Minister Robards was in for a very very nasty afternoon.

"Miss Granger," began the secretary, then froze at the glare that pinned her to her seat.

"Where is the bastard?"

"Uhm, Miss Granger? I don't know.."

"The Minister. Your boss. Gawain I-am-a-bigoted-moron Robards. Where is he?" It came out as a fast snarl. The secretary tried to recover herself.

"The minister is in a meeting, Miss Granger. But.."

"Good." She stormed over, flicked her wand, and casually kicked the door open. Such a shame they were still using her wards.

Half a dozen people in plum-coloured robes were chatting round a table. They looked round in shock.

"Oh good. The senior Wizengamot too. All the idiots I wanted to see in the same place. How serendipitous." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

Robards stood, anger in his eyes. He wasn't intimidated; she had to give the bastard that. All those years as an auror meant he was hard to scare. But not hard enough. She slammed the soggy copy of the Daily Prophet down on the gleaming wood without waiting for him to retake his chair.

"This won't take long, Robards. Unless anyone is stupid enough to draw a wand, in which case the clean-up will be very very messy; I designed the wards you've been using, remember. Now, sit the fuck down and pay attention. This is rather more important than any meeting you will ever hold."

She held Robards's gaze until he sat slowly, then she shook her head and sighed.

"God knows, we tried. We really did. But you just won't get it, will you? Well, you can't say I didn't warn you. I told you how angry the muggle-borns were, told you for years. I resign, Robards. More than that, I formally, in front of these witnesses, declare unilateral independence from the Ministry of Magic on behalf of the muggle-born population of the United Kingdom."

She drew a parchment from inside her robes and flung it down, ignoring the gasps of shock and splutters of outrage.

"You'll find the signatures of every muggle-born wizard and witch over fifteen on that. Arrangements have already been made with the goblins; you can't touch either our assets or our relatives, and I really don't recommend you try. Unless you want another Goblin War? With us helping the goblins." Their stunned faces gave her the answer she needed.

"You'll find that the Trace no longer works on these people, nor on any relative of theirs. I disabled the Trace on the general muggle population two hours ago, so you can forget about finding new muggle-borns too. You'll also find that, in the absence of fresh blood and the population growth it generates, your economy will collapse in a little under two years, and your society, according to my Arithmantic calculations, within a generation." She chucked a second roll of parchment on the table with a cold smile. "Feel free to check."

Robards looked at her, his face white. "You can't do this."

"We just did." She looked round the table in exasperation.

"Gods, you still don't even know why, do you? After all this time, you still won't understand. Umbridge, Robards. Umbridge. That was the final straw, the thing we couldn't ignore any longer. You actually let Dolores Umbridge go free. Have you bastard idiots any idea what she did?" She glared round and her voice dropped, cold and calm and harsh. "Yes, of course you have. But she only sent twelve-year-old mudbloods to Azkaban, not your own precious offspring, and mudbloods don't matter, do they? And she's just the latest. Your regime, Robards, has released more than half the pureblood prisoners in Azkaban, regardless of their crimes. You have never released a single muggle-born. Not even the ones Umbridge's committee imprisoned just for _being _muggle-born. Well, they're out now. You'll hear about it anyway within a few minutes. Azkaban no longer exists. We destroyed it. The Dementors too, most of them."

Jaws dropped all around the table. She smirked viciously.

"I would say it has been a pleasure, but I would be lying. Have a nice day, now."

Hermione Granger spun on the spot and disapparated, leaving only stunned silence behind her.


End file.
